Stories and News No. 754
According to the italian PM the man arrested in Milan was in Italy on the day of the massacre...
Once upon a time there was the monster.
The monster on the home page, yes, of course.
But not only this.
It would be too easy.
To put things in the right place.
Impossible, where the monster is now everywhere.
Downloaded directly into more or less defenseless hearts of the easy words thirsty people.
With or without the consent of the recipient.
Especially without.
With or without the consent of the monster itself.
Surely not.
It will take several generations to erase the indissoluble marriage between ‘black’ and ‘enemy’, ‘evil’ and ‘dirty’ from the minds of myopic horizons persons.
Imagine what it will take for the link ‘immigrant’ and ‘everything worse you might think of others’.
But if the creature with the grim look and the hissing voice was innocent?
And if the ‘grim’ word meant ‘I’m angry’, ‘you have no idea how angry I am’?
If you knew you would be a different person.
And if the ‘hissing’ word meant ‘I have lost my speech’, and ‘if I had one you would not understand the same’?
On the contrary, you would live in a different world.
If he was innocent: go, come on, correct the article.
Not so much, an adjective there, an adverb later.
But do not pretend that the narrative became unexpected.
Human between letter and letter.
Inhumane in the words themselves.
If he was innocent: courage, hurry up, change the home page.
That is, every pages, or ‘the sadistic reign of copy paste from above’.
In short: the house of the monster.
Who is at home and, let's face it, suitably, even if he is actually present.
Or not.
If he was innocent there would still be a doubt.
Well, how we worship it, the blessed son of our distrust.
A deceptive harlot that, unlike the unfortunate massacred souls for a few euro on legalized orcs couches, does not sell herself, but her only son.
The doubt, yes, yet it, the common doubt that remains as a perennial sentence on the last human begins on this earth.
You need courage to manifest the same suspicions regarding the neat and shining, golden-haired and clear pupils divinities, pardoned by an idiot fate that gives a walkover to the dishonest contender.
It takes love too.
And maybe even a good dose of unconsciousness.
Once upon a time there was the monster on the home page.
Or even the second and the third ones.
It is the same.
Because discovering his innocence.
Many, sadly too many, will not find any difference...
Storytelling with subtitles
Read other Stories about racism.
Also on Stories and News:
According to the italian PM the man arrested in Milan was in Italy on the day of the massacre...
Once upon a time there was the monster.
The monster on the home page, yes, of course.
But not only this.
It would be too easy.
To put things in the right place.
Impossible, where the monster is now everywhere.
Downloaded directly into more or less defenseless hearts of the easy words thirsty people.
With or without the consent of the recipient.
Especially without.
With or without the consent of the monster itself.
Surely not.
It will take several generations to erase the indissoluble marriage between ‘black’ and ‘enemy’, ‘evil’ and ‘dirty’ from the minds of myopic horizons persons.
Imagine what it will take for the link ‘immigrant’ and ‘everything worse you might think of others’.
But if the creature with the grim look and the hissing voice was innocent?
And if the ‘grim’ word meant ‘I’m angry’, ‘you have no idea how angry I am’?
If you knew you would be a different person.
And if the ‘hissing’ word meant ‘I have lost my speech’, and ‘if I had one you would not understand the same’?
On the contrary, you would live in a different world.
If he was innocent: go, come on, correct the article.
Not so much, an adjective there, an adverb later.
But do not pretend that the narrative became unexpected.
Human between letter and letter.
Inhumane in the words themselves.
If he was innocent: courage, hurry up, change the home page.
That is, every pages, or ‘the sadistic reign of copy paste from above’.
In short: the house of the monster.
Who is at home and, let's face it, suitably, even if he is actually present.
Or not.
If he was innocent there would still be a doubt.
Well, how we worship it, the blessed son of our distrust.
A deceptive harlot that, unlike the unfortunate massacred souls for a few euro on legalized orcs couches, does not sell herself, but her only son.
The doubt, yes, yet it, the common doubt that remains as a perennial sentence on the last human begins on this earth.
You need courage to manifest the same suspicions regarding the neat and shining, golden-haired and clear pupils divinities, pardoned by an idiot fate that gives a walkover to the dishonest contender.
It takes love too.
And maybe even a good dose of unconsciousness.
Once upon a time there was the monster on the home page.
Or even the second and the third ones.
It is the same.
Because discovering his innocence.
Many, sadly too many, will not find any difference...
Storytelling with subtitles
Read other Stories about racism.
Also on Stories and News: